


For those who are lost to the stars

by midnightflame



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Inspired by Fanart, Inspired by Music, Kissing, Loss, Love, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 06:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10155608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightflame/pseuds/midnightflame
Summary: And oh, how he wants to die in Shiro’s hands. Again and again. After all, his heart had already been sacrificed a lifetime before, so why not once more? If, after every touch, every kiss, every look that murmurs honest devotion, he is to find it reborn, then why not offer it, night after night, breath after breath, until all that remains is the taste of Shiro on his lips, the sight of him breathless beneath his fingertips?A man undone, so completely human.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was having a talk on twitter today about some sheith things and already considering this idea and then I saw this amazing piece of fanart on tumblr and everything was sold for me on writing this. Please check out this stunning piece of artwork [ over here ](https://theprojectava.tumblr.com/image/158081935803) (or alternatively: https://theprojectava.tumblr.com/image/158081935803) and go give Bastille's song "Torn Apart" a listen! The acoustic/live version is particularly awesome.

“Shiro. . .”

A name whispered with all the desperation of a prayer, stemming from a soul lost, quietly broken by the weight of its own love. It sits heavy on his tongue, reminding him of all the worth a single human being can have.

Richer than gold. Brighter than starlight. Measured, weighed and now finding himself so terribly wanting. 

The breath stirs within his chest, spilling out softly over his lips seconds later. Another hitch as the air crashes against a moan within his throat, turning it deep and dark as midnight’s ocean. Heat pulses over his skin, sparking with lightning where fingers strike against it. 

His wrist first. Then a rib. Followed by the shallow dip centered right over his collarbone. 

And last of all, the side of his neck. 

And that one. . . _that one_ puts the thrumming right into his blood, hard and fast along his jugular. Keith reaches up, letting fingertips ghost along metal-made-man, and finds that this world can collapse so beautifully under a single touch. One minute there and then gone, no more than a whisper of having been. His eyes close, his sight swallowed by darkness. And the breath lingers in his lungs, burning like smoke upon the wind.

He can imagine it, there in the brilliance of absolute blackness, how the stars come to life, how dreams are made. 

How every bit of desire can devastate an entire galaxy.

Keith can see how it is souls might be sold for something bigger than themselves.

His lips part, a gasp breaking free. And when Shiro’s mouth presses against his throat, Keith finds that his tongue is fire, and that entire worlds can be built from the smallest flicker of flame. As stunning as a phoenix’s ascent, reminding him that for every death, a rebirth is sure to follow in its wake.

And oh, how he wants to die in Shiro’s hands. Again and again. After all, his heart had already been sacrificed a lifetime before, so why not once more? If, after every touch, every kiss, every look that murmurs honest devotion, he is to find it reborn, then why not offer it, night after night, breath after breath, until all that remains is the taste of Shiro on his lips, the sight of him breathless beneath his fingertips?

A man undone, so completely human.

Lips set to skin again, searing against his jawline, working their way like wildfire down the column of his neck, until all Keith can think about is the warmth devouring him. Until the very thought of one and one alone is enough to put the ache into his heart, this quiet, erratic pulse of it that reminds him that every bit of this pleasure had been bought by pain. Because he remembers loss and he remembers the cold, and watching as it is all razed to the ground by one man alone has managed to still the very breath in his lungs until it burned its way out in a single life-giving gasp. 

That is when Shiro pulls his head back, this look of quiet concern flickering in the depths of his gaze. And when his lips press light against Keith’s cheek just a heartbeat later, as his tongue flicks out and traces a short line upwards, stopping just shy of his lashline, Keith becomes acutely aware of the tears that had sprung to life. 

“I missed every bit of you. . .” he breathes out with a sudden searing clarity, voice trembling, gaze fierce as it etches every bit of Shiro into his memory once more. 

A smile takes Shiro’s mouth then, soft and adoring, as he tips his head up and sets a kiss against the point of Keith’s nose, another to his forehead. 

“You will always have me.” 

It’s whispered near inaudibly against his skin, but Keith can feel it scorching itself into place there, deep enough to turn his pain to ash. That’s when Shiro's mouth finds his, luring the sweetest kiss from his lips, and Keith finds that a heart can still break from happiness. Because there is nothing as beautiful as Shiro at this moment, this person entirely his.

Not the leader of Voltron. Not the Garrison’s once-upon-a-time star pilot. 

Just Shiro, a man carved up by scars and haunted by memories and giving every bit of himself to Keith in this small space of a bed he dares to call _theirs_. So, when he kisses back, Keith offers up every ounce of his soul, thinking that with just enough fire they can cauterize all the hurt that bleeds out from within them, weld the best of all they are together until all that remains is this one perfect bit of unity.

Lifted from the ashes and made completely whole. 

And never has he felt as complete as he does when he’s within Shiro's arms. It’s coming home, no matter where this hell of a war takes them.

His knees grip against Shiro’s sides as Shiro finally begins to move, slow and steady, rising as gentle as the tide. Lips break open, another sharp moan fleeing, as Keith feels Shiro drive deeper into him. Shiro catches his lower lip between his teeth, sucking softly and dragging another low gasp from Keith’s tongue. And Keith begins to answer in turn, rolling his hips, a rhythmic rise and fall taking over as he wraps his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, feels Shiro’s thighs tense beneath his own as he lifts in time with him.

Over and over, this careful cascading motion as Keith moves within the confines of Shiro’s lap. Their mouths breaths apart, he can all but taste the heat as it burns off from Shiro’s lips, and he imagines there is nothing Hell could possibly have over them in moments like this. Because never has anything been so unquestioningly right in his mind, never has anything burned so bright within his soul. 

And if this isn’t salvation, then Keith doesn’t know what anyone could have possibly meant when they spoke of saving lives back on Earth. 

Because when Shiro comes, with Keith’s name harsh and beloved as it drops from his lips, it’s the most beautiful hallelujah to ever find itself on the tongue of a man. And when he comes, there has never been a fire more purifying blazing within all that he is.

*

“Shiro. . .”

A name whispered with all the desperation of a prayer, stemming from a soul lost, quietly broken by the weight of its own love. It sits heavy on his tongue, reminding him of all the worth a single human being can have.

Reminding him of how easily a life can be lost, to have held something so tightly in your hands and still find it missing, realizing all too belatedly that half of you has gone with it. And it leaves you with only this empty bit of blackness staring out at you from within.

This place where a heart should have been standing, should have been keeping you alive and well.

And maybe he is alive, but there is nothing of well within his being in this moment. There is only this endless ache driving itself relentlessly into his soul, over and over again. He imagines that stars die all over the universe, one for every breath that tears itself ruthlessly from his lungs, but even the devastation they cause couldn’t be enough to swallow the hurt wrestling his heart into submission at this moment.

It’s like looking into the vast unknown and thinking he can find what it means to be whole in the dark and empty of the world. 

His fingers curl against the sheets, cold beneath his touch. But memory whispers to him of fire and of all the ways it could illuminate so brilliantly, of all the ways it could forge a man to completeness. It sings to him again and again of how light fingertips could brush against skin, of how sweet words could taste upon lips.

Of how beautifully a man could fall apart with a single look. 

And every thought cuts another piece from his heart because Keith wants to believe there is right and there is a purpose in every bit of action in this universe, but none of this makes sense. When has tearing a soul in two ever made sense? 

But he can see the pieces of himself lying there, tattered bits of a heart that had once known how to call itself whole, and when he closes his eyes, he remembers the way a tongue could turn to flame and ignite every nerve touching upon his skin. And in this bed he once dared to call _theirs_ , he can still recognize the scent of Shiro over his sheets, can still remember what it means to be alive.

Only there is nothing. . .absolutely nothing. . .all of it is gone.

And when he opens his eyes, there is a world foreign to him staring back, big and black and monstrous in its making. Because in this space, he has been more of Shiro’s than he has ever been of himself. And it seems impossibly foolish to think that he can ever call himself complete when he is the only one sitting here, on a bed that had once grown impossibly warm with two, between sheets that had been filled with laughter and the quiet pledges of a love made as two bodies met, unconditionally sold to the other.

The breath aches, venomous, in his lungs. The tears are scalding along his lashes. 

Everything feels like it is burning down, taking him right back to the barest bits of human he could possibly be.

Never has anything felt so wretchedly empty, so horribly alone. And as the breath shakes its way over his lips and as his heart continues to bleed out, Keith remembers what it meant to find a man in the wreckage of the life he had once known.

What it meant to bring him home.


End file.
